


trusts you

by Livinei



Category: Mozart l'Opéra Rock - Mozart/Baguian & Guirao
Genre: antonio and wolfgang have the biggest fucking crushes amiright, anyway, literally all my fic titles are just very... shitposty lmao, they fool no one except themselves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-06 00:05:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15874467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Livinei/pseuds/Livinei
Summary: Mozart meets Francesco for the first time





	trusts you

**Author's Note:**

> it's short but have at it! 
> 
> (JL's is Joseph Lorraine's [music school] that was also mentioned in one of my previous drabbles)

“Lorenzo, you home?” Mozart called out, opening the door after two knocks and stepping into the apartment, playing with the flash drive between his fingers. “I got your- Oh, hello! You’re not Lorenzo.”

It wasn’t indeed. In Da Ponte’s living room sat a man, lounging on the sofa and looking up from his phone when Mozart entered. Mozart had never seen him before, but there was something that made him feel very familiar. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

The guy sat up a bit more and gave a lazy wave of his hand, offering a friendly smile.

“You’re quite right there. Renzo’s not here right now. He should be back in about half an hour though, so you’re welcome to wait here if you want.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay, I only came by to drop off this music he asked me to do,” Mozart assured, dangling the flash drive as if to confirm his point, “I’m just gonna go home if he’s not here.”

And he was considering doing just that. But oh, he was a social person, and he was a _curious_ person, and after a moment that curiosity got the best of him.

“I don’t think we’ve met?” he asked, setting the flash drive down on the nearest counter and cocking his head. The man’s smile widened into a grin. _So familiar._ Mozart hadn’t seen that grin often but he _had_ seen it.

“True, not face to face. But you’re Wolfgang Mozart, right?”

“At your service. How’d you know?” This person knowing who he was added another piece to the puzzle and Mozart was _so_ close to figuring it out, he could feel the answer sitting right there. Right beyond his grasp. Like a word on the tip of the tongue that you know that you know but can’t say.

A one-shouldered shrug and a sly smirk that seemed to be laughing at something that Mozart couldn’t know, and the guy stood up, resting his left hand on his hip and making a vague gesture with the right one.

“Eh well, I’ve heard a lot about you. Mainly from Lorenzo and my brother.”

At last, it clicked, and Mozart’s face delighted in recognition.

“Oh! You must be Francesco Salieri, right?”

“The one and only,” Francesco snickered, reaching out his hand. Mozart gripped it in an enthusiastic handshake. Of course it was, he could see it clearly now. Francesco wasn’t as tall, his hair was shorter and more wild than Antonio’s, and his resting face was more of a smile rather than neutral expression, but the shape of his face, the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled, how his brown eyes sparkled in the afternoon sun – Mozart had seen all of that before. Francesco and Antonio definitely looked alike now that he knew whose name to attach the unnamed familiarity to.

“I’ve heard about you as well! I just never saw any pictures, so I didn’t recognize you. Heard you were fun to be around, though,” Mozart said while letting go of the hand, to which Francesco barked a laugh.

“Who told you that? Definitely not Antonio, _he_ doesn’t think I’m fun to be around. I make sure of that.”

Mozart smiled. He _was_ going to like this guy, he could already tell. “It was Lorenzo. I do remember Antonio saying that we’d get along though. If I’m not wrong then that was one of the reasons he wasn’t thrilled about introducing me to you.”

“Eh, just like him to spoil all the _fun_. Actually I was going to meet up with him soon, do you want to come with?” Francesco invited, checking his phone once more and then slipping it in his pocket. Now, Mozart hesitated. He’d like to. But he could also hear his father’s voice somewhere in the back of his mind. Leopold Mozart had raised his children to have utmost understanding of what was respectful behaviour, what was good, when to act how, what to think about before doing this or that. Oh yes, Wolfgang knew a lot about what was proper. And even though he elected to ignore a lot of it in favour of being _himself_ , he was considerate. And he didn’t want to be the third wheel at a meet-up between brothers that he might have simply been invited to out of politeness rather than wanting him there.

“I mean, I wouldn’t want to intrude if you’re meeting up for something important.”

Francesco dismissed this – and along with it the tiny voice in Mozart’s head – with a wave, smirking amicably.

“Nah, don’t worry. He’s just getting finished with the class he’s giving at JL’s soon and I’m gonna drag him out to make sure he eats something. He had a busy day so he’s probably gonna need it. Honestly, Tonio wouldn’t stay alive without us.”

He grabbed a ring of keys from on the couch where they’d most likely fallen out of his pocket – Mozart noticed that the keychain was a treble clef, which made the corner of his mouth twitch – and flung a jacket over his shoulders, not bothering properly putting it on. “So, do you want to come along?”

“Yeah, alright,” Mozart said, with certainty this time, feeling further encouraged by the gladness that took over Francesco’s face.

And he was glad he went along, because truly, Antonio had been right. He got along with Fran like a house on fire. A lot of the time when he spoke with someone new, he found himself leading the conversation and keeping the other person engaged, but there was no need for that with Antonio’s brother. He’d met few other people who were as easy or fun to talk to, and with each minute Mozart found himself more at ease. By the time Francesco parked the car on the street next to the music school, it was as if they’d known each other all along.

When Francesco turned off the engine and turned to Mozart, he looked a little reluctant.

“So, Wolfgang… Don’t think that I doubt you, I don’t, in fact I’m confident that I don’t need to make sure of this at all, but I’ll ask anyways. Just for the sake of my own peace of mind. I think you’ll forgive me for that,” he made a momentary pause, glancing out of the car window before looking straight into Mozart’s eyes, “How important do you consider Antonio to you?”

Whatever Wolfgang had been expecting, this wasn’t it. Francesco didn’t look threatening, or suspicious, Mozart had gotten enough of a glimpse at his personality to know that the question was coming from a good place and with the best intentions, and Mozart wasn’t _nervous_. But that didn’t stop a startled chuckle from escaping his lips or the sudden warmth from creeping up his neck. Whether Francesco’s face lightened and eyebrow rose because he noticed Mozart’s pink cheeks remained a mystery. But not one that was very hard to guess.

“Wh- Very. He’s one of my best friends,” Mozart stammered out, rubbing at his neck with a hesitant smile, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights. Fran relaxed into the seat at that and grinned.

“Alright, good, that’s great! And hey, chill, I won’t tell,” he said, and then his grin melted into something softer, but also more serious, “I wouldn’t have asked, really, but, well. Antonio isn’t the biggest fan of people, as I think you already know. He never has been. But he’s fond of you. You’re important to him, so there has to be something special about you – aside from just your music – and I did already think you were a nice person but I think you can understand me being a little cautious. All the trouble I give him aside, I’d hate to see him get hurt because he opened up to someone who doesn’t take his trust seriously.”

“No, I get it. I promise that he matters a lot to me and I have no intentions of betraying his trust,” Mozart assured, to which Francesco nodded and seemed about to answer before suddenly perking up. Mozart flinched at the sudden opening of the door and turned just in time to see Salieri get on the backseat. The expression that took over Antonio's face was a little glad, but mostly fearful.

“Ah, speak of the devil! Hey, Tonino!”

“Hey, Antonio!”

“Oh, god. Why are you both here?”

Fran laughed while turning the key in the ignition and looked back while fastening his seatbelt.

“Who else am I going to tell all the embarrassing stories about baby Antonio while you eat? Buckle up!”


End file.
